I’ve never been afraid of clowns. I was always the kid who would look for them, hoping they would have that taffy they always handed out to kids at the local fair. My mom, on the other hand, had always warned me about creepy clowns. I guess she never felt safe around a man painted in bright colors, around to amuse children and families.

This summer, while all the creepy clown phenomena occurred, I remained more intrigued than ever. I was a fan of Stephan King’s “It,” and the fact people were playing on one of the most common fears was just interesting to me, I suppose. It was even more interesting when Green Bay had its very own creepy clown. A video surfaced on social media, showing pictures of a clown in all black, holding an arrangement of black balloons, wandering through town at night. I was hooked instantly.

I came back to school at UW Green Bay knowing that the Green Bay creepy clown “Gags” was all for show. Literally. He supposedly was filming for some contest or something and decided it would be a cool publicity stunt. Soon enough, clowns started popping up all over the U.S. They were shown looking into people’s windows and telling children to come into the woods with them. These clowns soon became more sinister, chasing people and wielding weapons of sorts. Regardless, I still wasn’t afraid.

Then clowns moved their way back to Wisconsin, having reported sightings in Wausau and Sheboygan, yet no one like Gags had terrorized Green Bay since early August.

That is, until a couple nights ago.

I was ready to go to bed, when my friend texted me asking if we could walk to the “Haunted Chapel” on campus. I, being the friend I am, agreed to the late-night venture. She was kind of distressed, dealing with relationship drama once again. The cool breeze blew against our backs as we trekked onto the trail. It’s a creepy, twisting path that we’ve travelled numerous times before, but the October winds gave us a chill we didn’t ever remember having.

We walked up a hill and heard a bush shake in the distance, excusing it as a result of the breeze. We continued on in the moonlight, ranting about boy problems and college in general (it’s midterm, after all). That’s when we were interrupted. We heard a giggle off in the distance. Now I can’t tell you that no one has some “fun” in the woods every now and then, but it wasn’t the awkward whispering that it usually was. It was… threatening. And then we saw the red. My friend and I locked eyes and turn to run, slipping on fallen leaves and sticky mud that always coats the trails. We heard him chasing us, laughing like a child playing during recess. His sick joke was truly funny to him.

I wasn’t afraid of this clown. I was afraid for my friend and our lives. I’m no track star, earning 5^th out of 6^th the last time I attempted the 200 meter dash at the age of 12, but I can tell you I ran faster than I ever had, if that means anything. But my friend was surprisingly falling back. I heard her footsteps fall back as the approaching footsteps grew closer to us. Suddenly

I woke up.

It was all a dream.

But I can promise you it could be a valid possibility if these clown shenanigans keep the speed they’re gaining. After all, they’re back in Wisconsin. What makes you think they couldn’t get closer?